There's More Than One Way to Use a Skull
by JillianWatson1058
Summary: ...or why John hasn't made Sherlock throw the creepy thing out. Not sure how often I'll update, but I will do so more frequently if interest is expressed. No slash. Please review!
1. Use 1

**Hi, guys! I'm rather new at this, so reviews are ALWAYS appreciated! I don't even know if anyone reads these author notes. I usually skip them. Anyway, enjoy! **

**~JillianWatson1058**

**Use #1: Leverage**

John flinched as a flying projectile narrowly missed his head. SMASH! The object exploded against the wall, showering the vicinity with shards of ceramic. Closing his book,  
John sighed.

"Sherlock?"

"_Bored._" Sherlock was sprawled on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah, I got that impression by the fact that you almost decapitated me with a _coffee mug._"

"In order to decapitate you, I would need a sharper and larger projectile, not to mention that my throwing speed would have to be at least five times faster. That mug would have only cracked your skull at the very worst."

"Well, isn't _that_ a comfort," John mumbled. "If you're so bored, you could clean up the mess you just made."

"Why should I?"

"Because…" Frantically, he searched around the flat. There! "Because, if you don't, I'll throw the skull out the window!"

Sherlock just chuckled. "If you threw it out the window, it would just land on the fire escape."

"Then I'll take it to Mrs. Hudson." He folded his arms.

Sherlock sat bolt upright, shooting John an icy glare. "You _wouldn't._"

"Try me. I don't care what happens to your precious skull!"

"But I'll never get it _back!_"

"Then you'd better start sweeping."

Sherlock stalked out of the room, mumbling something along the lines of "evil, good for nothing…"

John smiled, opening his book again. He could still hear his friend stomping to the supply closet.


	2. Use 2

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews for last chapter! You guys are amazing! Sorry I didn't update sooner. My internet's been a bit spotty. Side note: I'm still trying to figure out how to edit chapter 1 to change "supply closet" to "kitchen." Here's chapter 2; I hope you like it! **

**~JillianWatson1058**

**Use #2: Scaring People**

"More tea, Susan?" As he filled the teacup, John silently congratulated himself. Sherlock was experimenting at St. Bart's, so this date was unlikely to be ruined by the consulting detective's knack for offending people.

"You have a lovely flat," Susan commented. "Cluttered but cozy, just the way I like it." She gave him a warm smile that he couldn't help but return. Sipping their tea, they sat in companionable silence for several minutes.

They were sitting by the kitchen table, which was (mercifully) clear. All questionable experiments had been shoved into Sherlock's room earlier that day.

"Well," Susan put her cup back in its saucer, "I think I'm done with my tea. Would you mind giving me the grand tour? I only got a glance on the way in."

_There's a reason for that,_ thought John. "Well, there's not really much to see. Here's the living room," he led her in, "and Sherlock's room is down the hall," he pointed. "We are _not _going in-"

"_Eek!_ What is _that?!_"

John looked. She was pointing at the mantelpiece. Crap. "That's… a skull. And over here is-"

"Is it _real?_" Her eyes were wide with horror.

"It's not what you think; it's Sherlock's."

"It's your flatmate's _skull?_ You _murderer!_"

"No, no! That's not what I meant! It _belongs _to him; it's not-"

But Susan was already running down the stairs and out the front door. John sighed. Just then, he heard footsteps and the door to the flat swung open. It was Sherlock.

"John-"

"You weren't even _home_ and you still managed to ruin my life!"

"John-"

"It was your stupid skull that scared her off!"

"You should really thank me, John."

"_Thank_ you? You just messed up my-" Sherlock tossed him something and he grabbed it. Dark, black leather. "My wallet. _Why_ do you have my wallet?"

"Your 'date' is a pickpocket and a jewel thief. I got your wallet back when I brushed past her on the stairs."

John just stared at him, mouth agape. Then he plunked down on the sofa. "Why didn't you tell me this _before_ I invited her over for tea?"

"Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Do the words, 'You're never meeting my girlfriend again' sound familiar to you? We could've avoided this whole scenario if you had just introduced me. You're just lucky she didn't steal more."

"I'm not going to let you stalk my girlfriends!"

"Have it your way." The tall man made his way to his bedroom.

John looked at the skull. "I owe you one," he whispered, "just don't tell Sherlock."

"I heard that!" Sherlock's head popped back into the room. "What have you done to my experiments?"

John sighed. _Here goes nothing_, he thought.


	3. Use 3

**Hello again! Thank you for all the follows! (I may or may not have jumped up and down when I saw them.) Sorry it took so long- sharing a computer is hard sometimes… If you have skull use ideas, feel free to message me! I'd love to hear them! I was originally going to use the skull as a popcorn bowl, but then I realized that there's not a big enough hole for that…. Anyway, enjoy chapter 3! As usual, reviews are welcome! **

**~JillianWatson1058**

Use #3: Boredom Buster

"Sherlock."

"_What?_" He paused his relentless pacing for a moment to snap at his friend.

"Do you _have _to pace around the living room like a maniac? Surely you can think of _something_ constructive to do when you don't have a case!" John's eyes followed the detective's rapid transit around the room, wondering how he possibly managed to not trip on the numerous piles of junk littered over the floor.

"You've outlawed shooting the wall, throwing coffee mugs, and blowing up the kitchen…"

"Why these things can't be _assumed_ is beyond me," muttered John.

"… not to mention Cluedo. What do you expect me to _do?_"

"You could read a book."

"Boring; I can always predict the endings. Besides, I have to delete them after I read them; books take up too much space."

"How about baking cookies?"

Flopping onto the couch, Sherlock sighed dramatically. "Seriously, John?"

"Sorry, _some _of us get hungry. We could… go bowling."

"I like bowling."

"What about- wait. Really?"

"Yes. However, the bowling alley closest to us just closed last weekend."

John put his head in his hands. "Of course. Isn't that always the way my life goes?"

"I'm not going to look all around London for an open bowling alley, if you were wondering."

"Well," he looked around thoughtfully, "I don't see why we can't bowl _here._"

"How could we _possibly_ bowl here?"

"I'll show you, just a minute." With that he ran into the kitchen. He reappeared moments later, holding a stack of plastic cups. "This," he kicked some papers out of the way, "will be out bowling alley. And these," he set down the cups in a V formation, "are our pins."

Sherlock watched him with a bemused expression. "Where's the bowling ball?"

"Do you own anything round?"

"Just the skull."

Picking it up, John inspected the object. "This could work if I just dislocate the jaw like… so. There!" He held it up triumphantly, then moved into position and took a practice swing. "Here we go!"

He let it fly. It bounced, rolled… and curved to the right, missing the "pins" completely.

"You're doing it wrong." Sherlock picked up the skull and turned it over in his hands. "In order to make it go anywhere, you'd have to roll it on its side."

"Oh, you think you can skull bowl better than I can?"

"Of course." He gave it a toss, and it rolled marginally straighter than John's attempt, but still missed the "pins." The two men just looked at it for a minute, frowning in concentration.

"More force?"

"Maybe if we moved closer…"

The next half hour saw the men of Baker Street trying various techniques, some of which partially succeeded, and others that failed spectacularly. After one such failure, they both stepped back, laughing, with Sherlock still holding the skull.

"Well," said John, chuckling, "that makes a lousy bowling ball."

"I agree. But I know something it _could_ be good for."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"Shot-put," he said, grinning wickedly.

"You're a genius!"

"Obviously. The park?"

"Lead the way!" They grabbed their coats and headed down the stairs. "Just so we're clear, this is _your_ idea, ok?"

"Of course it is. Why?" Sherlock opened the door.

"If we scare some little kids, I can blame _you _this way."

They both laughed, shutting the door behind them.


	4. Use 4

**Well, life suddenly became hectic. Woohoo! :p Sorry this one's so short! Not sure how often I'll be able to update, but I'll try my best. Thanks for the follows and reviews. You guys are lovely! Reviews still welcome (in case you couldn't guess.) Oh, and in case I failed to mention, I don't own Sherlock, however much I'd like to.**

**Enjoy!**

Use #4: A (Used-to-be) Human Shield

SWISH! John ducked as a sword grazed the top of his hair. Hopefully looking for an opening, he leaned to the left, then jumped as the ugly, but athletic, assassin tried to slice his feet instead.

"You can't win, Mr. Holmes."

"How many times do I have to tell you," Jump. Duck. "I'm not Sherlock Holmes!" John was _really _regretting leaving his gun in his bedroom that morning, but how was _he _to know that he'd be in a fight for his life in his own flat?

"I don't believe you." The man swung toward John's abdomen, but he jumped back just in time.

"Honestly, can't you just read the blog?" Kick. Duck. "I put up a picture of Sherlock for _this reason._" Duck. Punch. "But villains can't be bothered to read _blogs,_ apparently!"

"I wouldn't be so snide if I were you." The ugly man grabbed John's neck and shoved him against the mantel. "Try and dodge _this_ one!" Raising the sword, he prepared to bring it down in a deadly swipe.

John's mind raced. Moving to either side wasn't an option; the killer's grip was, well, _killer._ He reached out for something, anything, to block the deathblow.

_Clink._ John brought the skull up to meet the sword. Disorienting the assassin with a well-aimed knee, he promptly thwacked him over the head with the large cranium.

As the man thudded to the floor, John looked at the skull, shaking his head. "I really have to talk to Sherlock about his public image."


	5. Use 5

**Sooooo sorry about the long wait. Life is crazy! This will be the last skull use, but I hope to post an epilogue soon. Thanks for your patience and support!**

**~JillianWatson1058**

Use #5: Cooking Utensil

John felt like patting himself on the back. He had actually figured out when Sherlock's birthday was (thank you, Mycroft). With Molly distracting the detective at the morgue, he had wrapped his present and decorated the living room with streamers. Even the skull was wearing a party hat. Now all that was left was making the dessert.

It was a recipe John's mother used to make him and Harry on their birthdays, with the perfect mixture of ice cream, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. It was much better than a normal cake, in his opinion. Taking out the pan and some Oreos, John looked over the recipe. In order to make the crust, you had to crush the cookies with a… rolling pin. Well.

Did they even _own_ a rolling pin? He started opening cupboards at random.

"If I lived in a _normal_ house, it would be easy enough to check," he muttered, "but _no_. I get stuck with the great _Sherlock Holmes_ and his experi- eurgh!" He gagged as he looked under the sink. "I don't even want to _know _how he got that." After five more minutes of looking and no rolling pin, he felt like admitting defeat. He frowned, leaning against the counter. Making the crust without a rolling pin would be exceedingly difficult. He looked across the room. If only…

Wait. The skull. It could work. It was hard enough, easy to handle. Why not? Living with Sherlock Holmes, he had done far stranger things.

After bringing it back to the kitchen, he took the party hat off of it and ran the skull under some water (there was no reason not to be sanitary about this), and got to work. As John had guessed, it actually made an admirable rolling pin. When its job was done, John set it back on the mantle and replaced the birthday hat. Now he could finish the dessert.

t was late, and the celebration had gone better than expected. Sherlock had actually eaten his cooking creation, declaring it, "not the worst thing I've ever tasted," and then devouring two more pieces. _Mission accomplished_, John thought to himself. Putting the dessert back in the freezer, he stopped, then grinned to himself. Taking it back out, he dished out one more piece and carried it to the mantle.

"Thanks for the help." He set it next to the skull and walked back to finish cleaning up. Pausing, he thought better of his plan and returned with a fork and a smile. "There's no use in letting the ice cream melt, now is there. You don't mind, do you?"

_You've gone insane. You're talking to a skull_, one part of his brain told him. The other part was happily munching on ice cream and Oreos.


	6. Epilogue

**Well, I'm afraid this is the end. Hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have! **** This chapter's post-reichenbach, so there are spoilers if you haven't seen it. Although, if you haven't seen it, you really should. Seriously.**

**Thanks for all the support! For anyone who followed, favorite, or reviewed: You are AWESOME. Until next time!**

**~JillianWatson1058**

Epilogue

For John, life with Sherlock had been vibrant. Life without Sherlock was gray. It was that simple, and yet it still hurt every morning when he woke up, expecting to hear the violin or see that the kitchen had been blown up, but realizing that that just wouldn't happen. After several weeks, John just couldn't handle staying at the flat anymore, so he moved to a smaller place nearby. It was quiet, calm, clean, and completely hateful. Still, it was better than a flat haunted by old memories.

It was John's birthday, and he hadn't done anything that big to celebrate. Sure, Mrs. Hudson had brought cookies, Harry had called, and Greg (kind man that he was) had taken John out for a pint, but it would've been nice to get at least _one_ present. He grimaced when he realized how childish that sounded. Flopping down on his faded gray couch, he flicked on the telly. It wasn't that he really _liked_ watching the shows, but the flat was too quiet without it on.

_Ding-dong. _"Who could that be?" he wondered, striding to the door and yanking it open (it always seemed to stick). "Hello?" No one was there.

He stepped out to look for his visitor and his foot knocked against something. A small brown package sat on the concrete porch. Picking it up, John looked down the street and thought he saw a tall, dark figure running off, too far away to catch up to. "Oh well," sighed John, stepping back inside and forcefully pulling the door shut.

"What do we have here?" Wanting to get this most fun out of this, he gently shook the package. "Ok, it's one thing that's rather heavy." He thought a minute, trying to guess what was inside. Then he shook his dead. "I have no idea. Let's see what's inside!" Grabbing a scissors, he cut the packaging tape and wrenched open the box. He started laughing.

"The skull? Really?" Someone had taped a bow on it to make it look festive. As he carefully lifted it out of the package, he spied a note taped to the bottom.

It read: _Happy Birthday, John. Use it well._

"Who could have brought this? Not Mrs. Hudson, she never liked the skull. Besides, she's already stopped by today. Mycroft, maybe?" He reread the note. "_Use it well._ What can I _possibly_ use this for?" He frowned in thought. "Well, there must be more than _one _way to use a skull."

THE END


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